Astoreth does Ferelden Part 6: Redcliffe
by Natmonkey
Summary: Follow Astoreth as she traipses through Ferelden and shares her thoughts and wonders. In this instalment: the return to Redcliffe, when on the way there our heroine and her companions are attacked by assassins.
1. Adventures in Templarland

_Thanks for all the reviews for Part 5, people. I really appreciate it. Let's see what you all will think of the developments on this instalment. _

* * *

"Alistair told us about what happened to you," Leliana says to me in a concerned voice as I'm warming myself by the campfire.

Morrigan holds out her hands to me. "For you, to sweeten the pain." Her palms appear to be covered in honey.

"Uh, do you expect me to just lick it off?" I stare at the witch in disbelief. It's always strange when she does something nice for another. It just doesn't seem her thing.

"Why not?" She sits next to me. "I washed my hands before I collected the honey."

Leliana sits herself on my other side. "So, your lover broke up with you? That was all Alistair would say though." The pretty redhead lays an arm around my shoulders. "Would you perhaps like to talk about it?"

"Do not let this go to waste," Morrigan chides me and without further ado slips a sticky finger into my mouth. It's an oddly sensual gesture, but I think she simply doesn't know this kind of behaviour is socially unacceptable. The taste of the honey is deliciously sweet, however. I haven't eaten much these past few days. I've been quite languid since... the thing. Sleep doesn't come to me at all and I haven't had the stones to look in a mirror. I must look like something that just clawed its way out of a grave.

"Speak to us of your troubles, if you wish." Morrigan's voice is surprisingly gentle as she continues feeding me the sweet, sticky liquid. Realizing I can't speak well with her fingers in my mouth, she pauses and eyes me expectantly.

I sigh. Fine, I will tell them all about my adventures in templar-land. They sound surprised as I speak of my former beloved, of how we got together, but politely keep any comments to themselves. I continue talking for quite some time, never too detailed, but still telling them everything. Leliana and Morrigan laugh as I tell them how Alistair kidnapped Cullen and brought him to the Spoiled Princess, but their laughing dies down when I reach the conclusion. Cullen and I are no longer together, and he doesn't even know of our child.

"So, a templar, hm?" Morrigan chuckles. "I do not know whether to applaud you or to slap you upside the head for your stupidity."

"Morrigan!" Leliana scolds her. "That is not a very nice thing to say. I am so sorry, Astoreth. If there is anything you need, please say so." Her lovely blue eyes are filled with compassion.

Morrigan feeds me some more honey. "Indeed. Maybe now you will realize that love is fleeting, meaningless." She has changed during our time together; her yellow eyes used to have a perpetual disdainful look to them, but now she regards me with kindness and pity. It might have something to do with the book of spells I gave her, the Black Grimoire. Apparently it was her mother's and she was searching for it, so she accepted it gratefully. I do think she's wrong about love; well, it may be fleeting, but it's not meaningless. It was all that kept me going. Previously.

"Thank you both, ladies. It was good to talk about it, but I'm afraid there just isn't anything anyone can do to help me. But they say time will heal all wounds, so all we have to do is wait." I shoot them both a look of gratitude.

"I have found that it helps to change one's appearance when a new stage in life begins," Leliana says sagely.

"My appearance? What, are you suggesting I cut my hair, or something?"

"Oh, you should certainly not cut it," Morrigan gasps. "'Twould be a shame, that." I smile at her in thanks.

Leliana shakes her head. "No, no, nothing quite so drastic." Her nimble fingers remove the pins from my bun and uncoil my hair. "Simply a new style. In Orlais I learned this intricate braid that would look stunning on you." She divides my hair into five strands and braids them, her fingers moving so swiftly I can hardly see what they are doing. The braid hangs down my right shoulder, reaching to just below my right breast. It certainly looks intricate, all coiled and twisted in different directions.

"Would you like to see what you look like?" Leliana asks as she ties a red ribbon around the end in a pretty bow.

"Uhm, I would rather not. I haven't slept in days."

"You do look terrible," Morrigan says bluntly. "And you have hardly eaten the past few days either. You do realize that this is bad for the child?"

I sigh. "I know, I know. I just... don't feel like eating. Is there any stew left?"

"There is, but you should know that Alistair is the one who made it," Morrigan warns me. Alistair is infamous for his cooking skills, or rather the lack thereof. Eating his stew is like eating boiled dirt. He's a great guy, but cooking isn't his forte. Still, it is nourishment.

"Duly noted." The stew is cooling down in the large cauldron we always drag along with us. I dunk my spoon into the cauldron, eating directly from it. Only after the first bite do I notice how famished I really am. I would have to be to enjoy this greyish goo so much. I eat and I eat and I eat until the whole damned thing is empty. Afterwards I let out a long, unladylike belch and rub my belly. I'm so sorry I didn't feed you properly, little one.

"Thank you for doing my hair, Leliana. Maybe you could teach me how to, so I can do it myself?"

She smiles sweetly. "Of course. It would be my pleasure."

"You have some stew on your face," Morrigan points out dryly.

I stick out my tongue. "Oh yeah? Well, you have honey on your hands."

"It would appear that I do." She begins licking her hands, much like a cat would.

"You do realize I had your fingers in my mouth a few moments before, right?"

She shrugs. "Yes. I am sure you do not have the dreaded cooties, so I do not mind." After a careful inspection of her hands she says: "There, all clean. Now, I will continue studying mother's grimoire. Goodnight to you." She walks away and flings a mean glare at Alistair who comes up to the fire, bowl and spoon in hand.

"Is there any stew left?" he asks hopefully.

"Uhm, no. Sorry. I ate it all." I hang my head in shame. Should've known he would come back for more.

Alistair drops the things in his hands and bends down to pick me up. "You ate!" He happily swings me around as if I weigh nothing. "I was getting worried for you, little Warden. Don't scare me like that anymore, all right?"

"I won't, I'm sorry." All this swaying around is making me nauseous. "Please put me down."

He carefully does so. "Nice hairdo. Hey, you have some stew on your face." And then he licks it off.

"Ew!" I wipe my cheek with my sleeve. "How rude."

Leliana giggles. "You two are so cute."

"_She_ may be cute," Alistair huffs. "But I'm _adorable_!"

"And so modest too. But yes, you are adorable!" I pinch his cheeks, which turn red almost immediately.

"I have things to do elsewhere," he mumbles awkwardly and scurries off. That's strange. We often treat each other like this and it never makes him awkward. How odd.

"Oh, look at that. You embarrassed him," Leliana giggles. "Such a nice boy he is."

"Yes, he is." I really like Alistair. Ever since the beginning he's been nice to me, usually treating me like a little sister, sometimes light-heartedly flirting with me. After which he always begins fidgeting awkwardly, I might add. He's very endearing, but Maker, that body could drive the coldest woman crazy. It does me sometimes. Hey, what do you know, I feel something. Lust. Haven't felt that in a while. No more thinking about sexy Wardens for you, little lady.

"Say, Leliana?" I turn to face my lovely companion.

She looks at me curiously. "Yes? What is it?"

"I don't mean to pry, but what was it you did before you entered the Chantry? I have a hard time believing a minstrel learns to fight like that on the road."

She stares at me awkwardly, biting her lip and making no reply.

"It's fine if you don't want to say anything. I was merely curious."

Leliana sighs in relief and looks at me gratefully. "Thank you. I will tell you in time, but not just yet."

"As you wish. I'll go see what Alistair is doing then." So I leave her alone by the fire and walk in the direction of my fellow Warden's tent. That Leliana is a mysterious young woman. What was she in a former life, some kind of assassin? Oh well. I don't even know why I'm going to see Alistair. To thank him for the way he's always treated me, I suppose. He's been a good friend. No, the best.


	2. Attacking the Purpleheaded Warrior

I quietly move aside the entrance to his tent not to wake him in case he's asleep. But he isn't. From the telltale pumping motions of his hand and his quickened breathing I can tell he is busy pleasuring himself. It's apparently very effective, as he doesn't notice even notice my presence. Oh dear. I feel compelled to stay and secretly watch, but that would be so very naughty of me. Should I wait until he's done? No, I'd better not; I might just lost control and burst in to have my way with him. So I close the tent flap as quietly as I opened it and clear my throat.

"Alistair?"

Inside I hear a startled "Maker!" and shuffling noises. "Yes?" His voice sounds hurried and out of breath.

"I would like to talk to you. Will you join me by the fire?"

After a few moments of quiet, he says: "You go on ahead. Give me a minute."

"All right." Does that mean he is going to finish the job? That is... so hot. I know what I will be doing tonight. Not sleeping; it's been three days and I feel exhausted, but I just can't seem to fall asleep. Back at the fire I stare into the flames. Leliana's already retired for the night. Sten is around here somewhere, patrolling the camp. Lately Morrigan has taken a shine to him, always bothering our not-so-friendly giant with suggestive, flirty comments. I don't really get it. I know he's big and strong and that this invites speculation about his size below the belt, but if he were to give me those dark looks he does Morrigan, I'd crawl under a rock and hide. Our witch, not so much. Undauntedly she carries on.

How would Cullen be doing? I hope he will recover from the torture he went through. But otherwise, I should try to forget him; he is no longer my business. Still, thinking of his wonderful body, his handsome face, brings back bittersweet memories. I suppose I'm lucky to have been with him, even with the way it ended.

Meanwhile, I'm slowly beginning to get over it. I think. Maybe I'm merely distracted. It's much easier when you're focused on your duty. We have a little boy to save, an arl to cure, elves and dwarves to ask for their help against the Blight, a traitorous teyrn to bring to justice. It feels good to know that the Circle is ready to aid us, thinned out as it may be. We're beginning to make some progress.

"I'm sorry it took so long," Alistair suddenly says. I didn't even notice him coming over here. His cheeks are red and he looks as if he's very hot. "I was just, uhm..."

"Attacking the one-eyed, purple-headed warrior," I finish his sentence. I've always wanted to use that dirty metaphor. Picked it up in a book somewhere.

For several minutes, Alistair stares at me with his mouth open. "Congratulations," he finally says. "You just managed to make it sound even dirtier than it already is."

"It's not dirty at all, it's..." Sexy. "Healthy. Everyone needs a release once in a while."

His blush deepens as he looks at me curiously. "Do you need... Wait, were you _watching_ me?" A look of horror twists his handsome features.

"No, I just ventured a guess based on the way you spoke and breathed. I... recognized it." Now it's my turn to blush, and not only because I'm lying through my teeth. This brings back memories of Cullen with his hand down his trousers. It cuts me like a knife, but also brings other feelings bubbling strongly to the surface.

"Oh." The look of horror has disappeared, only to be replaced with one of vague pity. He clears his throat and sits next to me. "Anyhow, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Well, I..." How does one say this? "I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend. Not once have you judged me, and you've always provided me with a listening ear. You've always tried to comfort me in these troubled times. Thank you."

"Awww." He smiles brightly. "You can always count on me." His arms wrap around me and he pulls me against his chest. I can feel that he really likes me, for which I am very glad.

"I just don't know how I could ever repay you. So if you ever think of anything, don't hesitate to tell me," I mumble into his chest.

His laughter rumbles against my ear. "You don't have to repay me. Just after Ostagar, you did the same for me. And you got me back my mother's amulet." He lets go of me and cups my face in his hands, his lips so very close to mine. "I just wish I could make you happy again." Oh, I could think of something that would at least make my girl parts all happy... No, bad!

"I will be happy again in time. Just let it wear off, I guess." It's so difficult to restrain myself from leaning closer and sticking my tongue into his mouth.

"If you say so." Alistair gives me a brotherly kiss on the forehead and gets up. "I'm going to sleep. Care to join?"

"Do you mean for actual sleeping, or...?" That escaped me without a second thought. I could just about kick myself. "I could stay in your tent with you, but I don't think I can sleep." Brilliant save!

"It will be warmer for the both of us. Come." He holds out his hand to me and I accept it. Why not. At least he will keep his hands to himself, unlike a certain thief I used to know. "We will be back in Redcliffe tomorrow," he says as he settles down on his bedroll and pulls my back close to his chest. "Let's hope that whatever possesses Connor also keeps the arl in his unconscious state."

"Yes. But if not, then what?" No doubt this will be followed by another dangerous mission to the far ends of Ferelden.

"Let's cross that bridge when we get to it. Goodnight." He yawns and in mere moments, I can hear him softly snoring. I'm quite jealous of his ability to fall asleep so quickly. Some sleep would do me good, but it just won't come. Speaking of coming... Maybe if I brought myself to release; I get a bit sleepy after an orgasm and thinking of what Alistair was doing with his hand earlier, well, I just cannot resist.

An elbow poke into his abdomen ensures that my bed buddy is fast asleep, so I hike up my robes and slip my hand into my panties. My fingers are immediately slick with my juices. I slowly slip two of them into myself, relishing the feeling. I haven't done this in a very long time. Merely the feeling of my two fingers makes me want to cry out; imagine if an actual penis was stretching me? That would be just what I need. Moving my fingers in and out, I circle my button with my thumb and feel it pulsating under my touch. I wish I'd stayed and watched as Alistair played with himself, to hear him moan under his breath. The thought of that is enough to make me come; I can't help but spasm a bit as those wonderful waves of climax travel through my body.

Hmm. My mind is slightly cloudy, but am I sleepy? No, not at all. Instead thoughts of a certain naked Warden tumble through my head. What would his cock look like? Would it be as impressive as the rest of him? How would he react if I touched him there, curled my tongue around it? Maker willing I will one day find out. But here he is, sleeping behind me innocently. I could just reach out and touch him if I wanted to. And boy do I want to! I don't really see why I should resist such an urge; it's not like I have someone waiting for me. Not anymore.

I slowly turn around and look at my sleeping friend's face. He looks so silly and cute with his mouth hanging open, a trail of drool leading from it. And here I was planning to feel him up. I'm a bad, bad girl. I should at least ask him for his permission before I stick my hand down his trousers. Oh dear, I can almost envision how that would go.

_"Say, Alistair?" _

_"Yeees?" _

_"May I touch your one-eyed, purple-headed warrior?" _

_Stunned silence. "WHAT?" His eyes roll back into his head and he faints. _

No, I doubt that would go over well. This is going to be another long night. But at least I've something nice to look at.


	3. Lousy Assassins

As we are travelling through an abandoned part of the road, a young woman runs up to us. "Oh, thank the Maker!" she cries out. "We need help! They attacked the wagon; please help us!" She turns and runs ahead. "Follow me, I'll take you!"

Oh dear, whatever would have happened? Crazy bandits will make the best of any situation, even with the darkspawn roaming the land. I break into a trot to follow her, the quickening footsteps of the others telling me they are doing the same. The woman leads us to two overturned carts, the animals that were pulling them dead, and to a short, tan-looking fellow who seems to be smirking. Who smirks when they have been attacked?

Upon a hand gesture from the man, several more people appear and train their arrows on us. He (clearly their leader) pulls out two blades. "The Grey Wardens die here!" he yells. Assassins? Oh, that is just marvellous. It's not like we had anything else to worry about, right?

* * *

As I'm busily flinging spells at an archer who's managed to put an arrow into my upper left arm, I feel a stinging pain in my side. I turn, only to be greeted by a dagger slashing me across the face. The nerve...!

"Mother... _fucker_!" Is that me roaring like that? Hmmm, probably. Pure, white-hot anger begins searing in my veins and everything turns red before my eyes. This fucker is going to get it now.

Whoa, what happened? Apparently I blacked out and now I'm covered in blood. The others are staring at me in shock. I stare at the object I'm holding in my hand. It appears to be a rather beautiful dagger, albeit a bloody one. At my feet is a mutilated corpse.

"What happened?" Ow, my face. I look around to see that all of our attackers are incapacitated. It doesn't get more incapacitated than dead, right?

"You killed him," Alistair replies dryly. "Wrested that dagger from his hands and went all stabby on him."

My mabari barks and proudly lashes his stubby tail as if to affirm this.

"Yeah, right. Really, what happened? I seem to have blacked out."

"He is speaking the truth," Sten says gravely.

Morrigan nods. "Indeed. You simply gripped the blade and tore it from his hands." Somehow she seems pleased. "The first thing you did was repay him for the wound on your face."

"Oh, come on, you have to be kidding. Do I seem like the kind of person who would do that?" Only, I do happen to have deep, deep cuts on my fingers. Ouch. How can this be?

"Rage can fuel one's strength and heighten one's resistance to pain," the qunari answers my unspoken question. "It would seem that this has been the case here."

I still can't believe it. "Did anyone actually see me do this?"

Everybody present raises their hands. "It's the truth," Wynne says.

Leliana shudders. "I had no idea you had such a violent streak."

"I don't. This guy," I kick at the corpse at my feet, "cut my face and I just lost it, I guess."

"Oh, I can heal that for you," Wynne says and immediately begins casting.

"No, never mind." I lay my hand on her arm and she stops. "Let it serve me as a reminder that I'm a big, fat, gullible fool who readily walks into ambushes." I scowl fiercely, which rather hurts. "_They_ attacked the wagon... I should've first asked who they were."

"Hey now, don't be too hard on yourself." Alistair walks up to me and lays an arm around my shoulders. "I fell for it too." He scratches his head. "Although that doesn't mean much, does it?"

"It certainly does not," Morrigan says smugly. This time Alistair makes no effort to start bickering with her.

In the meantime Wynne has brought out some cloth and a disinfectant and is gently cleaning the cut on my face with it. "This should be cleaned before it gets infected, dear. And you might need some stitches." She dotes on me as if I'm a child, hissing in worry from time to time. Her ministrations sting a little, but it's nothing I can't handle. I kind of fear the extraction of the arrow in my arm though.

Having cleaned the blood away, the dagger I hold is absolutely gorgeous with its curved, sharp edges and ornate hilt. I figure it's mine now, so I wrap it in some cloth and stuff it down my pouch.

"At any rate, we left their leader alive. Care to question him, or would you prefer to mutilate him as well?" Alistair chuckles.

"That's not funny!" I cannot believe this. Usually I use magic to slay my enemies. And now I'm supposed to have pulled a dagger from someone's hands and killed them with it? It is a bit hard to digest. I'm almost sorry I don't remember it.

"Don't dwell on it for too long," Alistair speaks upon seeing my pensive expression. "He had it coming anyhow."

I shrug. "I guess _SO_!" A sharp, painful yank turns my last word into a loud scream. Again it's Sten who's pulled out my arrow. "Thank you," I tell him.

"You're welcome." He nods.

This time I'm not going to pass out. "So, who wants to tie up our unfortunate assassin?"

Leliana pulls a length of rope out of her pocket upon hearing my question. "I am on it," she chuckles and walks over to the man who is lying unconscious in the middle of the road. In mere moments he is tied up like a large cut of rolled meat and yanked into a sitting position by Leliana. Only then do I notice his pointy ears. It's an elf, and a pretty one at that. Maybe a thought like this might be considered racist, but well, aren't all elves pretty? The ones I've seen back home were definitely all easy on the old eyes.

I slap him in the face. "Wake up you!"

His eyes slowly open and at first only incomprehensible mumblings come out of him. Finally he says: "I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not at all. But I see you haven't killed me yet." That accent. I've never heard it before.

"Not _yet_, no." I stare down on him. "Who sent you to kill us?"

"Oh, I am to be interrogated?" Despite his predicament he chuckles cheerfully. "Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. A rather taciturn fellow in the capital hired me. Loghain, I think his name was."

Alistair and I look at each other and roll our eyes. It figures Loghain would try to have us killed. I've heard about the Crows, or rather, read about them. The library in the tower was full of books that weren't about magic and one of them mentioned this order of assassins. Apparently they are quite expensive and never fail an assignment. That book needs a revision, if you ask me.

"I see." Again I begin feeling angry. How dare that traitorous piece of scum pull this kind of sneaky trick after having almost all Wardens and most of the king's army slaughtered? He is so going down. I poke my staff under the elf's chin and lift his face up. "Look here, buddy, I don't care if you're an Antivan Crow, an Orlesian Parrot or a Fereldan Parakeet. Let's keep this short and sweet: you tried to kill us, so how will you stop us from killing you?"

Zevran blinks in surprise; maybe he expected more questions. "Well, here's the thing: I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. But I like living and you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause, so let me serve you instead."

"Serve us?" I can't help but laugh. "How could you possibly hope to be of use to us after this?"

The elf's face takes on an insulted expression. "I happen to be skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks."

"That's nice, but we already have someone like that," I say with a smile directed at Leliana. She immediately perks up, looking very proud of herself.

Zevran shrugs as well as he can with the way our minstrel tied him up. "Well, I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?" His voice sounds as if he's already thinking of what he would have to do to warm my bed. And it has nothing to do with fetching a hot water bottle, I bet.

"Ugh." I slap my palm to my forehead. Why is this fool hitting on me in such a situation? "You must think I'm royally stupid."

"I think you're royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous." The assassin flashes me a dazzling smile and winks. "Not that I think you will respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

"A... deadly _sex goddess_?" For a moment, I'm speechless. What's wrong with this idiot? Surely he realizes that I could pulverize him, should I wish to do so.

"So what shall it be? I'll even shine armour. You won't find a better deal, I promise." He eyes me hopefully.

Hmm, let's see. We could either kill him, or take him with us. If we were to take him with us, we'd have another ally against the darkspawn. Either that or he attempts to kill us again. I think I'll just take my chances. We could always kill him later. "All right, fine. You're coming with us then."

"_What_?" Alistair shouts, his voice a mixture of horror and disbelief. "You're taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?" He sends me a heated glare.

"Come on, doesn't your armour need a good polish? He'll be useful, don't worry." I conjure a sweet smile and lay my hand on his arm.

He relaxes visibly. "All right, all right, I see your point. Still, if there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello," he grumbles. Obvious disapproval. Well, I'll find a way to make it up to him. Even if I have to get on my knees to do it, ha-ha. Actually, that sounds like fun. Hmmm...

"Welcome, Zevran," Leliana greets our latest family member as she unties him. "Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan."

Said Crow looks pleasantly surprised as he looks her in the face for the first time. "Oh... I wasn't aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely."

The pretty minstrel manages to look both flattered and mildly disgusted. "Or maybe not."

Zevran solemnly swears his fealty to us and we are on our way. I'm going to have to watch this one, or rather, Stubbs is. He growls menacingly at the elf. Good boy.


	4. An Agreeable Bath

Even though Redcliffe is quite close, and we could have made it before dark if we'd picked up the pace, we decided to take it more slowly and set up camp anyway. We're all tired, and most of us are hurt. Zevran's been meek and compliant, following us without a word. Probably afraid of Stubbs. For a dog that acts like a happy puppy most of the time, he can be surprisingly fierce and scary. I love him so.

Oh, my poor face. Wynne's been kind enough to stitch the wound to keep scarring to a minimal, but it stung like nobody's business. It still stings, actually. Towel and bar of soap in hand, I retire to the nearby creek to wash away the blood. My robes will just have to stay dirty, seeing how they will never be dry enough to wear by the time we leave. Oh, crap. Wound in my side I completely forgot about. My robes are stuck to my flesh. Uh oh. Here goes nothing. "_Argh_!" That hurt, but I'll get over it. I strip and leave all my articles of clothing on a nearby rock, my pack right next to it.

Goodness, this is cold. The water reaches up to my shoulders; it's a good thing I'm not taller, or my bits would be showing. I dunk my entire body under the water and emerge gasping. The temperature really takes one's breath away. The next thing I see when I've smoothed my hair out of my eyes, is Morrigan. "Would you take offense if I joined you?" she asks. "'Twould be so much more efficient."

"This is not _my_ water, Morrigan." I look up at her. "You don't have to ask. Feel free to jump in." Having grown up in a tower with communal baths, I've learned to dispose of any prudery.

With a nod she begins taking off her clothing. She has a beautiful figure, if a bit on the scrawny side. Her breasts are so naturally well-supported she doesn't even need a brassiere. Apparently she doesn't need knickers either. Before long she's joined me. "Oh, cold!" she exclaims, clasping her arms around herself.

"Refreshing, isn't it?" I've become used to the coldness of the water; even the goose bumps on my skin have disappeared. With the bar of soap I remove dried blood from my skin, wincing whenever a bit of it comes into contact with one of my numerous injuries. Ow.

"Do you need help washing your back?" Morrigan holds out her hand to me.

I deposit the bar of soap in it. "Sure, if you don't mind doing that." Turning my back to her, I hang my hair over one shoulder.

"Your hair is so very long." Her voice has a tone of reverence to it as her smooth and presumably soapy hands trace small circles all over my back. "I have always wanted to grow my hair down to my knees, but Flemeth forbade it. Too impractical, she said."

"I love the way you wear your hair. It's very pretty, but still practical." I like how gently she's handling me. It's... oddly arousing. And we're both naked. This sounds like the scenario of a sordid tale waiting to happen.

Morrigan laughs, quite a rare sound. "Thank you. The wounds you sustained in Redcliffe are almost healed."

"How bad is the scarring?" I'd almost forgotten about those. Lately I'd been wondering why my back was so itchy. Silly me.

"Quite bad. A jumble of ragged lines, running from here," a delicate fingertip touches a spot halfway down my right shoulder blade and traces a diagonal line to almost the left side of my waist, "to here." Her soft touch sends a shiver through my body. "All done."

"Thanks. Would you like me to help you too?" I take back the bar of soap.

The witch nods. "If you would be so kind." Turning her back to me, she continues: "You have not slept in days, it seems. Are you not fatigued?"

"Pff yeah, I'm incredibly tired." Her skin is silky smooth under my hands. "But I just can't seem to fall asleep, no matter what I try. Losing Cullen has really taken its toll on me."

Craning her neck, Morrigan sends me a stern look. "Truly, 'tis essential that you overcome this grief. What good could that templar have done you?"

"None, I suppose. His lot in life just wasn't compatible to my own, but we were young and stupid. And let's not forget really, really horny." I splash her shoulders with water to rinse off the foam.

"Horny?" There is an unmistakable tone of confusion there. "Are you saying that he was horned?"

I have to stifle a laugh. "No, 'horny' is a just a newfangled word that means that you're very much in the mood for sex."

"Oh, you mean _amorous_. Now I understand." A low chuckle. "Horny," she muses. "Interesting word."

"Isn't it though?" For good measure I splash her some more. "There, clean as a whistle."

She turns to face me again. "Thank you. 'Twas quite agreeable, this bath, no?"

"It was. And efficient too!" I'm done here, so I clamber onto the bank and wrap my towel around myself. As I'm drying myself off and putting on my underwear, I find Morrigan staring at me. "What, is something wrong?"

"Astoreth, your legs are beautiful!" Her eyes seem to be studying them intently. "The curve of your calf is perfectly rounded." Lo and behold, she reaches out to give me a squeeze. "And 'tis so very firm as well." I swear, this girl is so weird. She once complained about how much the touching in human society bothered her, and yet she doesn't mind sticking her fingers into my mouth, washing my back and touching my bare leg. Strange and contradictory, but I don't mind one little bit. Maybe our ways are rubbing off on her, although I can't remember the last time someone else fed me by hand.

I smile at her. "Why, thank you, Morrigan. You have great breasts." A compliment deserves a counter-compliment.

"Do you not find them a tad small?" In an unbelievably sexy gesture, the witch cups her breasts and lightly presses them together. Should I find this sexy? First that desire demon, and now this. I'm learning new things about myself every day.

"Nah." I shrug. "Whatever doesn't fit in your partner's hand might be considered a waste. They're round, perky and pleasing to the eye; what more could you wish for?"

"Hmm." Her lips curve into a smirk. "Nothing, if you put it like that." She laughs when my stomach rumbles audibly. "I believe 'tis time for you to have dinner. Count yourself lucky that Alistair was not the one cooking tonight."

I chuckle and quickly pull on my robes. "I fully agree with you on that. See you later."

* * *

Eight bowls full of stew (_so_ tasty) that Leliana made later, I'm ready to head for my tent. Another sleepless night, I'm sure. How boring and exhausting. The newest addition to our group kept staring at me while I ate. The more food I shovelled in, the greater his eyes grew. Perhaps the women in Antiva don't have such ravenous appetites. Well, I suppose women in general don't have such ravenous appetites. Not even pregnant ones such as myself. Stubbs is still guarding the assassin faithfully, growling at him from time to time. Whenever he looks at me, however, he pants happily. It's almost as if he's smiling. Adorable.

Maybe I could spend another night staring at Alistair while he sleeps? It's not like I have anything useful to do while I'm tossing and turning in my bedroll. I walk over to his tent and push away the flap. "Al?"

Already tucked in, but not yet sleeping, he raises his hand in greeting. "Hi."

"Can I sleep here with you?"

"Of course." He smiles warmly and opens his arms. "Come here, you."

I have to restrain myself from jumping into his tent, and instead crawl in at a decent speed to nestle myself in his embrace. "Thanks so much. Sweet dreams."

A soft kiss is planted on top of my head. "You too." His arms wind tightly around me. "You still haven't slept yet, have you?"

"Uhm, no. I can't fall asleep." I sigh. "Maybe with your warmth, I can." No response. "Uh, Al?"

All I hear is a light snoring. Asleep already. I'm so jealous.


	5. Time to Exorcise the Demon

The mages have already arrived in Castle Redcliffe and seem to be awaiting us eagerly. Everything's already set up for the ritual to take place. As soon as he sees me, Jowan begins waving, but stops abruptly. He looks shocked. Am I that hideous now? Eh, I don't care. Do I have a reason to be pretty? I think not.

"Ah, there you are!" Irving greets me "We've brought lyrium and begun preparations for the ritual. We may begin anytime."

"So, only one person can go through?" Confronting a demon is no picnic, so it would be better to bring some company.

Irving nods. "We've only enough lyrium to send one mage into the Fade, I'm afraid."

Too bad. "Do you have any advice for me? How to best defeat that demon, that sort of thing?"

"It truly depends on the manner of demon. This one sounds like a spirit of greed and desire, one of the more powerful in the hierarchy. It will likely engage you in dialog and make you an offer. Avoid it. Making deals with demons never turns out well," Irving warns.

"Well then, let's get started, shall we?"

"I'm glad we decided to take this route," Alistair tells me. "This is really the best option."

Behind me I hear Sten growling about magic. It would seem he doesn't like it much.

"I assume you are going into the Fade," the first enchanter speaks. "Or did you have someone else in mind?"

As a matter of fact, I do. With a nod in Jowan's direction, I say: "He'll be the one to go."

"What, me? Are you sure?" he asks nervously, looking at me directly for the first time.

"Yes. You wanted to help make things right, this is your chance. Take it."

Irving shakes his head in disbelief. "Loose a blood mage upon the Fade to meet a demon? What if he takes control of it?"

"He won't, if he knows what's good for him. This is his chance to redeem himself." I defiantly look Irving in the eye.

"You trust too much and too quickly," he replies gruffly. "But I will do as you ask."

Jowan looks at me and Irving nervously. "I'll do my best. I promise."

And so they head off into another room for the ritual. Maker's breath, I hope I made the right decision. Not that I doubt him, but what if the demon kills him instead? Perish the thought.

* * *

After what seemed like a whole age of me pacing around the room and receiving unkind glares from lady Isolde, that damned harpy, the door opens and my old friend stumbles through. He grabs me by the shoulders in a feeble hold.

"It's done. The demon is gone." I can tell he's quite enthusiastic, despite the fatigue in his voice. I myself cannot really feel any cheer; all the while I've been plagued by thoughts of Cullen. And earlier I thought I was getting over all that. Oh boy, was I wrong. Jowan eyes me with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just peachy." I turn to follow the arlessa and bann Teagan upstairs. They rushed there as soon as they got the news.

Sadly, the arl is still very ill, lying in his large four-poster bed under thick covers, his face ashen. Connor is in the room too, apparently looking at some books on a shelf. He's so adorable. I just want to cuddle him and ruffle his hair, or something. Boo, my mother instincts are already kicking in.

"So it is over," Teagan says, half-relieved, half-worried. "Connor is back to his old self and seems to remember nothing, which is a blessing. I suppose we will need to send him to the Circle's tower for training, once the war is over. It's so odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things." He looks at me apologetically, as if to tell me he means me no offense. Not that I would take any. We mages are a scary lot, or so I hear. "Eamon has much to mourn and rebuild should he recover. But at least he can be grateful that both his wife and son are safe," the bann continues.

Lady Isolde smiles at me. "I owe you my deepest thanks. I can scarcely believe that Connor is the boy he once was." Said boy runs over to his mother and hugs her before running off. Awww...

"There is still the matter of Jowan." Teagan turns to more serious business. "His poisoning of Eamon began this whole mess, yet he lives. We will hold him for Eamon to decide his fate. If he doesn't recover, Jowan's fate is sealed. What do you think?"

What _do_ I think? "Why are you asking me?"

"You are friends, are you not? Surely you know his faults better than any other."

"I suppose so." I sigh. Jowan, you fool. "I will tell you this: he has a good heart, but he's not the most sensible of people. And don't forget he defeated that demon himself. If it were up to me, I'd have him released."

"Released?" Isolde's ivory face is slowly turning red with indignation and anger. "Are you mad? Why would you do such a thing?"

Because I need all the bloody help I can get to stop the Blight, that's why. And because I have somewhat of a soft spot for him, having grown up with the guy and whatnot. Well, I better not get on her bad side. Before you know it, she'll have me shipped off to some Chantry to become a templar. I don't think their uniform would suit me.

"I agree with Isolde; he is a maleficar. We cannot simply unleash him on the land and ignore his crimes." The bann also looks a tad miffed.

I scoff. "A maleficar? Please. He's a love struck fool who tried to run away with his girlfriend. He would never have used that blood magic if they weren't caught. Loghain is to be blamed for the arl's poisoning. All my friend wanted was to return to the Circle."

Isolde seems to be thinking over my words, but then discards them and continues looking at me angrily with her delicate hands clenched into fists at her sides, while Teagan rubs his chin in contemplation.

"Even so," he hesitantly begins, "Eamon will be the one to decide his fate. I am sorry, but Jowan will be kept in the dungeon until my brother recovers."

I shrug. "That is up to you. And how will the arl recover? Would magic help? We happen to have a very skilled healer with us."

"It's been tried and we'll continue trying, but..."

"The Urn!" the arlessa cries out, effectively cutting off her husband's brother. "The Urn of Sacred Ashes will cure Eamon!"

Why, of course. "And I take it you need our help searching for this Urn?" Andraste's ashes. Maker's breath, what a wild goose chase. Maybe while I'm at it, I'll have to search for Maferath's britches too.

"My husband founded Brother Genitivi's research, a scholar in Denerim. He was studying the markings on Andraste's birth stone. When Eamon fell ill, I hoped he had finally located the whereabouts of the Urn of Sacred Ashes and sent some of the knights to speak with Genitivi. They were unable to locate him." Isolde sighs sadly. "In desperation, I sent out more knights in search of the Brother or a clue to the Urn's location."

So what now? Do I leave these people to rot, to watch their father, brother and husband slowly die? I think not. And more importantly, we need the arl's help: we need his army to fight the darkspawn and that blighter Loghain. "Fine, I'll see if I can find this relic. But I make no promises; maybe Genitivi himself has no idea where it could be."

"Perhaps you should locate the scholar's home in Denerim and search it to see where he might be. I think that is the best place to start," Isolde offers. Apparently the woman's been pacified now that I've agreed to look for this miracle cure. "For today, you shall be our guests and stay the night in our castle."

"That is very hospitable of you, my lady. Most kind." I dip into a deep bow. That is very nice of her, unexpected even. I thought she'd immediately shoo us away. Were Teagan not here, I bet she would have.


	6. An Unexpected Visitor

_I just returned from Gamescom in Cologne, Germany. It was freakin' awesome! Anyone here went there? I got some free shirts, oh happy day! So anyway, on with the story. The plot thickens again, I guess. _

* * *

The arlessa had her servants (they came flocking from the village as soon as word got out that what had caused the nightly attacks was gone) prepare all of us a lavish meal and a luxurious bedroom. By that time Irving and his mages had already left to continue their rebuilding of the Circle. Not even the prospect of a wonderful meal could persuade them to stay longer.

My clothes are all being washed. The servant who took my clothes from me wrinkled her nose in disgust upon seeing all the blood and dirt on it. The arlessa was kind enough to lend me a dress she wore during her pregnancy. I'm not offended, even if she meant it as some kind of underhanded jab at my... voluptuous figure; she's much thinner than I am so it makes sense. She's also taller, which means her dress is sweeping the floor wherever I go. And I've done plenty of exploring. Should save the servants some work, I imagine.

I couldn't find the will to eat properly, no matter how tasty everything looked. Instead I just picked at a small plate of vegetables, meat and potatoes so nobody would get worried. I managed to eat all of it, but it took a very long time. When I informed the others of our upcoming search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, most of them just shrugged and continued eating and talking. Except for Sten, of course, who grumbled something in his own language. And Leliana became very excited, adoring fan of the Maker and His prophetess as she is.

So now I'm sitting in my room and playing with the beautiful rose Alistair gave me, illuminated by the glow of the roaring fireplace. That's right, my own fireplace. I decided to take advantage of it, since it's always so cold on the road. It's toasty warm in here. My bed is so lovely, very large and comfortable with many soft pillows. I sent Stubbs to keep an eye on Zevran, which he is undoubtedly doing very well.

When I checked my face in a mirror, the stitching was beautifully done (and my eyes are sunken and empty-looking, as I thought). The cut is long and jagged, running from my right cheekbone in a curved line almost down to my chin. It's bound to leave a scar, but I'm done being vain. What's the point, right? It's not like the darkspawn will appreciate my beauty, for as far as I possess it anyway. My fingers are neatly bandaged; I'm very lucky none of the tendons were severed, or I'd have a problem right about now. Maker's breath, I look as if I've been in a particularly nasty tavern brawl.

I don't need a lot of clothing in this fine warmth and had Isolde's dress washed as well. Instead I'm wearing Cullen's shirt, repaired with rough stitches down the middle to avoid unintentionally flashing anyone my bare chest. Sadly his scent is completely gone from it. Maybe it's not very smart of me, since I'd like to forget him, but I...

Suddenly there's a knock on my door. Who would that be at this hour? Alistair? No, it's not him; I can sense he's close by, but it's not him in front of my door. So who could it be? I walk over to the door, having lain my rose on the nightstand, and as I open it the light falls on my old friend's skinny form. For some reason, he's holding a tray in his hands. What's he doing here?

"Did the arlessa let you out of your cage?" I keep my voice low so nobody will awaken.

Jowan shakes his head. "No, bann Teagan forgot to lock my cell in all the commotion. May I come in?"

Yes, why not. It's not like I have anything better to do. I step back and open the door farther so he can enter. He immediately deposits his tray on the desk in the room.

"I thought you might need some cheering up," he says, offering me a small plate with a slice of some unknown cake on it.

"That's nice of you, but I'm not hungry." I gently push the plate back his way.

In the soft orange glow, I can see worry flashing in his eyes. "What is wrong? The Astoreth I know would never turn down cake."

I shrug and sit on the bed. "Nothing's wrong."

"You're a terrible liar. Come on, have a bite." A fork with a chunk of cake heaped on it hovers before my lips.

When I open my mouth to decline, Jowan just shoves the thing into my mouth. ...Wow, that is some good cake. It's soft, smooth, creamy, sweet and tastes faintly of cookies.

"What is this?" I have nothing against talking with my mouth full.

"Orlesian cheesecake, the arlessa's favourite. Do you like it? I would've brought you something made of chocolate, since you girls seem to like it so, but there was nothing of the sort." Without waiting for a response, he stuffs another mouthful into me. And so on, and so on, until the plate is empty.

I contently wipe my mouth. "That was delicious."

"I knew you'd like it," my visitor says proudly. "Here." He hands me a cup and I immediately take a sip. You dummy, he poisoned someone! But no, it only appears to be milk. Milk? Such a lucky coincidence.

"You look better, by the way." I study him. No longer covered in blood and dirt, I can finally see how hurt he really is. He has several cuts on his face, one through an eyebrow, a large faded bruise on his jaw. Judging from the pleasant smell that surrounds him, he managed to take a bath. The tattered, filthy robes are gone; instead he is in a cotton shirt and leather pants, sturdy boots on his feet. Wonder where he got those. "I've never seen you wear anything like this."

"I miss my robes," he confesses. "These pants are a bit... tight." He chuckles awkwardly.

I drain the cup and place it on the night stand. "Oh, well, I think you look nice."

"Thanks. What happened to your face? And why do you look like you just clawed your way out of a grave?" He moves to sit next to me and looks at me curiously.

So I look _exactly_ as I thought. "I haven't slept since getting trapped in the Fade. And we got ambushed by assassins on the way here, that's how we got that elf." That numbness has returned. So strange, almost as if I'm not in my own body.

Jowan gasps and clutches my hands. "Trapped in the Fade? What happened?"

So I tell him of the troubles in the Tower, the sloth demon, my antics in his realm and eventually killing Uldred.

"Is that why you look so sad? Is Cullen dead?" He gives my hands a light squeeze.

"Thankfully, no." I sigh. "But we are no longer together." It hurts so much to think of this.

"What? Why not?" He releases my hands and encircles my shoulders with one arm. "What about your baby?"

"I never told him." As he opens his mouth to comment on this, I can only laugh bitterly. "So what if he knew? What would he do; run away with me so we could get married? You tried this and we all know how well _that_ worked out."

Jowan immediately drops both of his hands into his lap and stares at them despondently.

"I'm sorry. That was harsh." I lean my head against my friend's shoulder. "I apologize."

He slowly shakes his head. "No, you're right. I should've left Lily well alone. Maybe the same goes for you and Cullen."

"Maybe? Try certainly. I was very stupid. Looks like we have a lot in common." I notice his arm is back around my shoulder, so I slip mine around his waist. "Still, they say it's better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. I regret nothing; it was a good experience. Live and learn."

"Hey, I'm not stupid," he protests weakly. "I wanted to thank you, by the way."

I lift my head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. "Whatever for?"

"You gave me the chance to help make things right. So, thank you." He bends down to lightly press his lips to my cheek.

I shrug. "It was no trouble. What are friends for, right?" No emotion in my voice. How sarcastic I must sound.

"What has happened to you? Fine, it's over with Cullen, but Maker's breath, is that any reason to act like you're dead, like you don't care about anything?" Jowan suddenly lashes out, forcefully grabbing my upper arms and shaking me.

"It's reason enough if the man you love was tortured by blood mages and demons, if he no longer trusts you because of it! I never asked to be born a fucking mage!" I hiss at him. I don't know how it happened, but anger has begun bubbling fiercely in the pit of my stomach. How dare this fool question the manner in which I cope with my grief? I give him a hard push, forcing him to release my arms. "You dare criticize _me_ on the way I behave? _You_ poisoned arl Eamon and thrust Redcliffe into chaos!" I'm so fucking pissed off everything looks red before my eyes; a few more words that rub me the wrong way and I swear I'm going to beat the crap out of him.

Jowan flinches and cringes away from me. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know," he whispers pitifully.

The red haze that obstructs my sight slowly drains away. Of course he didn't know. "Forgive me. These past few days have taken a lot out of me. But you know how it feels to lose the one you love, don't you?"

He nods. "Yes." His voice slightly quivers. With fear?

"Was I that scary?" How odd. I'm merely a little woman, and a physically weak one at that.

"Y-yes. I... I thought you were going to attack me. Not that I deserve any better." My old friend hangs his head, still racked with guilt.

"Don't say that." I take his chin in my hand to look into his sad blue eyes. "Of course you deserve better than that. Wasn't it you who killed that demon?"

He scowls. "Only because you allowed me to; the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Thank you for having faith in me."

"And how were your adventures in the Fade, oh mighty vanquisher of demons?"

My old friend laughs at his new title. "Not so grand as yours, I'm afraid. It was strange, there were these shadowy figures of Connor and the arl, all looking for the other. The arl was trapped, and he... recognized me." His voice takes on a sad tone.

"Called you names, did he?"

"Yes, something like that. Anyway, I had to fight that demon a few times. Irving was right about the type. She made me offers of power, pleasure, all kinds of things. But I said, no! I've been given the chance to do something right, and by the Maker, I will!" Clearly on a roll, he shakes his fist at an invisible enemy. "So I killed her and that was that."

I smack him on the shoulder and make a mess of his hair. "Well done!"

"All thanks to you." My friend grins proudly at me. "Why do you believe in me?" he suddenly asks.

"Because I know you have a good heart and you deserve another second chance." I can feel the corners of my mouth curving up, but I don't think it's a pretty smile. It's wan at best.

"I really appreciate that. You are a true friend." His expression turns to one of concern as he carefully traces the wound on my cheek with a finger. "This looks painful."

I shrug. "It's not so bad. The stitching hurt most."

"You could've easily healed this away. Why didn't you?" His face is so close to mine I feel his breath against me as he curiously looks at my injury.

"Because I want to look tough, that's why."

He looks at me as if I've lost my marbles. "You must be joking."

"Of course, dummy. See, we got ambushed because I'm a dumb, trusting fool. A woman ran up to us claiming her wagon had been attacked and I fell for it hook, line and sinker. That earned me this cut and the scar will remind me that I shouldn't just jump to a stranger's rescue." I shrug again. "It could've ended much worse. None of us died and we got a nifty assassin out of it."

Jowan's eyebrows have nearly disappeared into his hairline. "You're taking someone who's... Uhm, you're bleeding." He looks at me with big eyes.

I see a red stain spreading on the white fabric of my sleeve. "Oh, that's from the arrow I took earlier." Rolling up my sleeve, I find the bandage around my upper arm is soaked with blood. He must've torn the wound open when he shook me. There is no pain, oddly enough. I retrieve fresh bandages and some healing poultice from my hip pouch, which my friend is quick to take over from me. Without a word he cleans away the blood, applies the poultice and the new bandage.

"Thank you." I roll my sleeve down again and smile at him.

He smiles back. "It's no trouble." Suddenly he looks uncomfortable. "Has anyone told you of what will happen to me? Will I be executed?"

"Well..." This is kind of sad; there is no way this will have a happy ending. "It would seem that the arlessa wants to see you hang for what you did, but Teagan wants his brother to decide your fate. I said I wanted you released, but of course they didn't fall for that." I hang my head. "I'm sorry. Chances are that you will be put to death eventually."

"Don't be sad for me, Astoreth. I don't deserve anything else." He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me a little closer. After a few moments of silence, he says: "Say, can I feel your baby?"

"Why, of course." I stand before him and lift my shirt above my belly. "Knock yourself out."

First he looks embarrassed, probably because my panties are in full view, but then he places both hands on my belly. Wide-eyed with curiosity, his hands run slowly up and down. "It doesn't feel like there's a baby in here," he says with disappointment in his voice.

"It's just been a few months. Give it some more time and I'm sure it will be far more obvious." Maker, I'm going be huge. Let's hope no darkspawn gets the bright idea to stab me in the gut.

Jowan sighs sadly. "I don't think I'll be around to see you grow." He presses his cheek against my stomach, that ever present stubble of his pricking into my skin.

"I'm so sorry." I run my fingers through his silky hair as tears well up in my eyes. See, always powerless, nothing I can do, ever. Although something is whining at the back of my mind, something important. Something that could help him. I just can't put my finger on it.

"So uhm, what if I were to have, say, a last request?" My old friend awkwardly clears his throat and averts his eyes away from me, his face flushed.

"What is it you'd like? You know I'd do practically anything for you, especially now." I briefly stroke his cheek.

Jowan raises his head to look into my eyes. "May I spend the night here with you?" An uncomfortable cough and some fidgeting follow.

"Certainly, you can sleep here if you like. I'm sure it beats that tiny cell of yours." And then it dawns on me. "_Oh_. You don't want to sleep, do you?" Well, that was unexpected.

He utters an uneasy laugh. "No, not exactly. You always used to beg me to take you to bed, and this might just be my last chance. I figured it's a win-win situation." Then he rises and tentatively places his hands on my hips. They are trembling noticeably. "And now that neither of us is committed to anyone, there can hardly be any harm." His pale blue eyes are scanning my face, probing my reaction.


	7. Sleep at Last

_So, to make up for my prolonged absence, here is another chapter. Now you know what she'll say, Mapachita. =P_

* * *

"I..." Well, why am I hesitating? Not two years ago I was having wild fantasies about him. So, take your chance, girl! But it's too soon after Cullen. Is it really? It's been months since I've felt _real_ pleasure, the kind of pleasure only a man can give. "Done. We'll uh, we will spend the night together." My words come out in a low whisper. Suddenly I feel so _nervous_.

"Your hair looks beautiful like this, by the way," Jowan says in a small, shaky voice, nervously playing with my braid.

At least he's as anxious as I feel. "I uh, thank you?" Argh, this is so nerve-racking. Think sexy thoughts! No, sadly that seems to be impossible at the moment. How did my first time go? Oh no, I seem to have forgotten.

When Jowan slowly leans in to kiss me, I can't help but fly into a fit of maniacal giggles. My entire body quakes and convulses; if I weren't being held, I would've flopped about on the floor like a fish. "I'm so sorry," I gasp, "but this is just awkward..." The giggling slowly subsides.

"Did you get that out of your system?" my guest asks, his eyebrows raised in amusement. I nod and he responds: "Good. Now come here." So he promptly grabs me by the back of the head and firmly plants his lips on mine.

And just like that *poof* the awkwardness is gone and my knees go weak. Have I not been waiting for this for months? Granted, I wasn't thinking of my childhood friend, but beggars can't be choosers. I wanted lips to kiss, arms to hold me, a body to make love to and here they are. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I part my lips and his tongue slides in to carefully caress mine, his arms tightly wound around my waist and his hands resting on my behind. Not resting, actually; his fingers are busily tracing the edge of my panties and the flesh this article of clothing can't cover. Not to be outdone, I slip my hands under his shirt to explore the feel of his body. On the smoothness of his skin I feel many rough spots, undoubtedly the result of his torture.

I wonder what I'll find under his shirt. As I pull it up, he's quick to break our kiss and raise his arms to help me take it off him. His entire upper body is covered in bruises, cuts and burns, like an illustration of agony. That poor, skinny little thing.

"You look terrible!" But I don't intend to dwell on that for too long. I run my tongue along his neck, carefully nipping at his skin. The soft, clean scent of soap surrounds him.

"Says the thing that clawed her way out of a grave," he retorts in a barely suppressed moan. "You're not exactly a shining example of health yourself."

"Oh, I'm healthy enough, trust me." My hand disappears into his trousers to teasingly run a finger along his hardened shaft, eliciting a surprised moan from my best friend's lips. It's not so difficult, is it? I wanted him to do me for years and now I'm finally getting my wish. Better late than never.

He allows me to coax him backward and to push him down, onto the bed. When I straddle his midsection, Jowan looks up at me with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment on his face. Ah, but I'm such a sucker for the shy ones.

I exaggeratedly fan my face with my hands and say in a coy voice: "It's so _warm_ in here. Do you think I should take my shirt off?"

Quite unexpectedly, he sits up and takes me in his arms. "No, not just yet," he whispers. Our mouths meet for another kiss and this time, Jowan isn't quite as careful. His tongue is eagerly taking a tour of my mouth as his hands are roaming my bare thighs. I notice that his hands are smoother and more delicate than the hands I was used to feeling on me, but they don't fail to send sparks flying through my body.

It's been so long since the last time a man touched me like this; it's as if I'm so much more sensitive. A familiar tension begins building in my stomach and as I tilt my pelvis to rub my crotch up against his rock-hard erection, the tiniest bit of friction against my button causes that tension to erupt into the welcome waves of an extremely intense orgasm. I arch my back and detach my mouth from my lover's to utter a series of low, subdued moans (no need to inform any others of what is going on in here) until my climax is done ravaging my senses.

I open my eyes to find my friend staring at me curiously. "What just happened?" he asks.

"Well, I uhm, just came." I sigh; my vision is blurry with satisfaction. He hardly even touched me and I've never come this hard. Either he's very good, or I haven't had any in a long time. Or maybe both.

He chuckles mischievously. "So now you're very sensitive, right?" he drawls. The hand that creeps under my shirt makes me shiver with delight and squeal in pleasure when it cups my breast, tweaking my nipple. Suddenly my shirt is gone and my other breast is covered with little kisses and the occasional lick. All I can do is simply enjoy this wonderful treatment and try not to scream. Surely I've deserved this after these long, long months of celibacy followed by heartbreak?

But I suppose poor Jowan deserves a thing or two as well. Of course he got himself into this mess, but he's been trying so hard to make things right. I shouldn't be this selfish. "Wait." I grab his wrists to take his hands off me and pin them above his head. "Let me take care of you," I whisper into his ear.

"Sounds good." His voice sounds thick with lust, all embarrassment and awkwardness abandoned. Perfect. We briefly kiss before I make my way down his torso, kissing, licking and nibbling at the uninjured parts of his skin. And then I arrive at the pronounced bulge at the front of his trousers. My, my, how very promising this looks.

Slowly I unlace his pants and his member (still hidden behind his smalls) jumps out at me as if it's very happy to see me. This looks even more promising. I stick my hand down his smallclothes to encircle him. Oh my. He doesn't appear to be very long, but the girth is quite impressive; I'm having trouble closing my hand around it. A gasp escapes his lips as soon as he feels my hand on him, followed by more when I stroke him a few times.

That's it, I cannot take this any longer; I simply must taste him on my tongue. I swiftly pull his pants down, taking his smalls with it. For a moment I stare at his erection in wonder; it's as straight as an arrow, the tip such a dark shade of pink it's almost red. Actually, it looks kind of cute. The tip gets a little kiss from me and he shudders under my touch, accompanied by a moan. When I open my mouth to curl my tongue around him, the moaning becomes louder. Encouraging, no?

I begin sucking on the tip, using my hand to stroke the rest of him. A salty taste fills my mouth. His length allows me to fully devour him and not gag at all. I move my mouth up and down his cock, slowly caressing it with my tongue. He takes in sharp, hissing breaths with every touch, until the faint throbbing in the organ increases and his breath hitches in his throat. With a barely stifled groan, my dearest friend grows slightly and squirts of semen are deposited into my mouth. It's warm, thick, and hardly bitter, actually. It tastes almost sweet as it glides down my throat. Quite nice. I clamber back up again; the way my nipples graze his sweat-slicked skin gives me goose bumps.

Balancing myself on top of him, I plant my elbows firmly on either side of his head and grin at him. It pleases me to no end to see how he's panting and almost cross-eyed with ecstasy, beads of sweat rolling down his face. "Well then, did I do all right?" I kiss the tip of his nose.

With his hands resting lamely on the small of my back, Jowan proclaims: "Maker's breath, you're _good_."

"I take it that is a yes?" Never mind the answer; of course it is. I bend down and press my lips onto his to promptly plunge my tongue into his mouth. His reaction is quite enthusiastic: in one fluid motion he flips me onto my back, pulls down my panties and begins caressing my swollen, wet nether lips. These aren't the fingers of an amateur, no ser. Lily must've been one happy girl.

His ministrations make me so hot that sweat begins pouring from my skin, but he avoids touching my button, that foul tease. Instead he slowly slips a finger into me, and commences blazing a trail down the side of my neck with lips, tongue and teeth, leaving me to whimper in torturous pleasure. Feeling him suck on my nipples pushes me close to the brink, but not yet over it. _So_ close. Goodness gracious me.

But I'm not going to just lie here like a ragdoll. Or maybe I am, because I can't seem to reach his penis from this position. Ah well. Andraste's mercy, the urge to just force him onto his back and start riding his rod as if it's a horse that will help me escape the archdemon is incredibly strong and only becomes stronger when that single finger moving in and out of me is joined by another. Must... resist...

And then his soft, wet tongue is on my button and I no longer have to resist. Insane pleasure ripples through my body in maddening waves, sending me bucking and grinding against his tongue while I grab a handful of his hair and roughly pull it. I taste blood in my mouth and notice I bit my lip too hard from trying to keep quiet. The waves of my orgasm slowly recede and I loosen my grip on my lover. His fingers retreat from me, only to be replaced by his incredibly thick cock mere moments later.

Jowan kisses me as if he's starving for me, the taste of my blood mixing with the taste of my juices. Exasperatingly slowly he inches his way into me, stretching me, filling me like I've never been filled before. I nearly faint with pleasure when he is fully in me. So hard and thick, it's like I've died and gone to heaven.

"Are you all right?" he suddenly asks, his voice but a hoarse whisper.

"I'm not all right; I'm bloody ecstatic," I manage to croak out and wrap my legs around him. His only response is to begin fucking me in long, slow thrusts, almost pulling all the way out before plunging in deeper. I cry out his name, not too loudly of course, dig my nails into his shoulders. Oh Maker, this is what I was fantasizing about when I was younger, but the real thing is infinitely better than all those fantasies accumulated.

Soon his thrusting becomes harder and faster and I drag my nails down his back, no doubt drawing blood. His teeth are on the side of my neck, scraping and biting, all semblance of gentleness flown out the window. All I can do is moan into his ear and pant breathless phrases about how great he feels in me, how wonderful his cock is and to fuck me harder, harder, harder. If he keeps this up much longer, I'm not even sure I can survive this onslaught of bliss on my senses. I sink my teeth into his shoulder to keep from crying out while he does the same to me.

After what seems like an eternity of our bodies fused together in an animalistic frenzy, the familiar throbbing begins. He expands inside me and climaxes, his entire body quivering, his teeth sinking deeper into my flesh. The feral snarls that accompany this phenomenon almost make me come too; almost but not quite. I'm kind of sad I missed the expression on his face.

Again the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but this time it's not mine. I release his shoulder and see scarlet droplets welling to the surface. My own shoulder hurts like crazy; no doubt he's done the same to me. Jowan rolls off me and flops onto his back, panting and wheezing as if he's run a mile at top speed, as I am doing myself. Panting and wheezing that is, not running.

He turns his face towards me, a wide smile lighting up his features. "That was _intense_," he says.

"So it was." I stretch, and yawn. "Has your last wish been fulfilled, then?"

He nods. "That and more." Snuggling up to me closer, he drapes his arm across my waist. "I like how there are no hard edges to you, just cushy softness, as a woman should be."

I blink a few times. "I'm not sure how to respond to that." I shrug. "Thanks, I guess."

"I must've been blind," Jowan says cryptically, staring at me intently.

I yawn again. Sleepy. "Huh? What?"

"You're so beautiful, Tori." His voice is full of affection as his fingers trace the outline of my lips. "I just never noticed."

My old nickname? "You stopped calling me that years ago." My best friend used to call me Tori because he had trouble pronouncing Astoreth. And now he's not only calling me that, but also beautiful. The blood loss must be getting to his brain. I yawn yet again. Wow, maybe I'll actually be able to sleep tonight. It's getting really difficult to keep my eyes open.

"Yes, I know, but..." From my half-closed eyes I can see him smiling gently. "You're sleepy, aren't you?" He turns up the covers and nudges me under them. I just let him; too tired to do anything myself. Oh my, this bedding is so soft and fluffy, this pillow, just perfect. Behind me Jowan gets under the covers too and nestles up to me, softly nuzzling my neck. "Sweet dreams, Tori," he mutters in my ear. Well, if he is using this childhood memory, I might as well too.

"Sweet dreams, Jowse." I hear a little chuckle behind me before rapidly drifting away. Finally, sleep.


	8. Bread with a Side of Orgasm

_Thanks for the reviews, darlings. I thought some of you (namely the hardcore Cullen or Alistair lovers) might give up after reading how our heroine gets it on with her old friend. Well, I like Jowan, so there you have it. _

* * *

A soft, continuous knocking at my door awakens me. I slowly open my eyes and feel as fresh as a daisy. Finally, a good night's sleep! But apparently I'm not alone, judging from the warm body that's closely cuddled up to my back. What in the Maker's name have I done last night?

Oh, I remember. Jowan came into my room last night and had a rather special last request. To take a tumble with me. Well, apparently it was exactly what I needed. Despite the intimacy of what we've done together, I don't feel awkward, embarrassed or ashamed at all. I _knew_ it would change nothing between us! Turning around carefully to make sure I don't wake him, I look into his sleeping face. He's smiling a little, sometimes mumbling things I can't make out, his eyes fluttering about under their lids. He's not at all the kind of man I usually take a fancy to, but Maker's breath, is he a fine lover.

The knocking on the door becomes more insistent. Right, that was what woke me in the first place. I'm such an airhead. Of course I'm still as naked as the day I was born, so I get out of bed to find my shirt. It's crumpled in the corner. Pulling it over my head, I open the door and poke my head outside. The servant who took my clothes has returned, holding my robes and other garments. They are folded into a neat little pile; even from here I can smell the fresh scent that comes from them.

"Good morning, my lady," the young woman says with an inclination of her head. "Your clothing is washed and dried. Here you are." She hands me the pile.

"Thank you very much. Would it be possible to request a tub of warm water and a towel from you?" I could certainly use some cleaning up after last night's exertions.

"Certainly. It will be brought to you as quickly as possible," she replies. "Is there anything else?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you." I smile at her and she leaves me after bowing politely.

I hardly even get any time to close the door before another servant appears with my warm water and towel. This one is as polite as the woman who brought my robes, bowing before taking his leave. With the towel slung over my shoulder and the tub in my hands, I push the door closed behind me with my foot, careful not to make any noise. Wouldn't want my visitor to miss any sleep in this comfortable bed.

Not only do I feel infinitely better, I look better too. Not like something that clawed its way out of a grave, but like a living person who's been a bit injured. My lower lip is slightly swollen from when I bit into it, but the cut on my cheek seems to be healing nicely. It even itches. There are several love bites on my neck and shoulders, along with some teeth marks. That's sure to earn me some smart comments. My hair is a mess, so I undo the braid and smooth it down. Leliana tried to teach me how to braid it myself, but my clumsy fingers cannot perform such a task, it would seem.

I use the warm water (exactly the right temperature) to clean up and dry myself off with the towel, before retrieving a fresh pair of knickers from my pack and putting them on. My stomach is growling like an angry mabari. I hope the arlessa won't mind me raiding her larder. And if she does, _tough_.

Damn, my bodice is straining to close around my belly. At some point I will probably have to buy myself a brassiere. Good thing we'll be heading to Denerim soon. The capital of Ferelden is bound to sell such items. Oh my, I wonder what they use here to launder clothing. My robes smell like a field full of spring flowers. Cheesy, but true.

Thinking of Cullen doesn't hurt me so much anymore. Apparently it's not time that heals all wounds, but a really good shag. Tsk, tsk. I'm so shallow. I sit on the bed next to my sleeping friend. He looks so peaceful. It's sad he will probably be put to death, though if I'm honest, he isn't entirely undeserving of it. Wish there were a way to save him.

He could've just run away as soon as he found out his cell wasn't locked. It's honourable that he didn't. Sooner or later his actions would've caught up with him anyway. And I'm glad he decided to spend time with me instead. It was so amazing; I'm sure memories of it will keep me warm for many a night. Running my fingers through his hair, I bend down and kiss his cheek.

And now for some food. I'm fucking famished.

* * *

Zevran and Stubbs are already in the dining room, surrounded by servants who are placing all manners of food on the table. Strangely, my dog is sitting on a chair too. I scratch him between the ears. "Good morning, boy." He barks and happily pounds his tail against the chair. "Good morning, Zevran." Gee, I just feel so bloody cheerful it's almost unnatural. My mouth is stretched into a stupid grin as I sit across from my companions.

The assassin seems very surprised by my greeting. "Good morning." He eyes me curiously. "You look a lot better than yesterday."

Ah, now that I'm more rested, his smooth accent is like honey gliding down my ears. "Do I really?"

He nods and hands me a basket of bread. "Judging from the way your stomach is growling, you might want some of this, Warden." The elf also offers me some butter. "It's all fresh," he adds.

"Thank you." I dump half of the contents of the bread basket onto my plate and liberally slather the thick slices of bread with butter. Ah, delicious, simply divine. "Excuse me, do you have any milk?" I tug a nearby servant's sleeve. He nods and leaves to return with a large jug and a cup. "You can leave that here. Thank you." The servant gives me a funny look, but goes on with his business anyway. I drain three cups in quick succession, followed by six slices of bread. My stomach's still not satisfied, so I grab the rest of the bread as well.

When Jowan walks in, all bright and cheery, I almost choke on my food. What's he doing in here? While I cough and Stubbs and Zevran look at me with both worry and curiosity, he saunters up to me.

"Good morning, Tori." He greets me with a kiss on the cheek, lingering a bit too long to be merely friendly, before sitting down beside me. He nods at the others present, frowning briefly upon seeing a big happy hound sitting on a chair. Zevran nods back, but gives me a knowing look. Mind your own business, you.

"What are you doing here? Get back in your cell before the arlessa or bann Teagan see you!" I hiss.

"Aw, but I'm hungry," he whines and steals a slice of my bread. He stuffs it down his mouth before I can snatch it back. As I glare at him angrily, he playfully sticks out his tongue. How could I stay mad at that? I shrug and continue buttering my bread. Of which my buddy will inevitably steal a few slices, no doubt.

While I'm munching away at the deliciously soft bread, I feel a hand gliding across my stocking in an intimate caress. I look off to my side to see Jowan smiling innocently at me, the innocence in his expression belied by his hand moving between my legs and stroking my inner thigh. This is so incredibly depraved and filthy; I like it. Suddenly I'm very happy for the slit in my robes that sometimes so unpleasantly brings the boys to the courtyard.

I readily spread my legs to grant him easier access. Now to distract the others; if I don't distract them (and myself) I will make what is happening painfully obvious. His fingers brush my panties ever so slightly and I bite my lip to keep from moaning. "So Zevran, how much were you paid to kill us?"

The former Crow, who was quietly eating some fruit and minding his own business, looks up. "I wasn't paid anything," he says dryly. "The Crows however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand."

This is odd; it's as if my skin is tingling, my senses heightened. I am two persons: one of them revelling in the clandestine caresses and the other holding a conversation with the elf across from her. "Then what would you get out of this?" I hear myself ask on a pleasant, conversational tone.

Zevran laughs heartily. "Oh, the Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy." He adds a saucy wink to that last statement. Women _and_ men? Hmm, how appealing.

"Ha, now you're making me want to join," my alter ego laughs cheerfully. She is even capable of humour. I don't think I'm cut out to kill people all stealthy and sneaky-like. My killing people is usually rather messy and involves them blowing up or turning into ice and shattering or something equally unpleasant.

The assassin chuckles. "I'd think twice about that, if I were you. You seem like a bright girl. I'm sure you've other options."

When Alistair walks in and distracts the other guests, I briefly close my eyes to enjoy the feel of my friend's fingers teasingly stroking my swollen lips, his hand stealthily slipped into my undergarment. Maker's mercy, he's making me _so_ wet. The other part of me just waves and wishes the newcomer a good morning.

"Good morning!" the other Warden says cheerfully. His cheerful demeanour quickly turns sour when he spots Jowan. "What is he doing here? Did you let him out again?" he asks me.

Before I can answer, Jowan says: "No, bann Teagan forgot to lock my cell door." Apparently unfazed, his slow and deliberate caresses continue, continue driving me almost insane.

"Huh." Alistair scratches his head and moves to sit beside Zevran. "Why didn't you just flee then?"

"I'm done with running away and hiding from what I've done." Jowan's tone is grave, despite the maddening pleasure he must know he's bringing me. "I will await whatever fate arl Eamon has in store for me." His teasing fingers move upward to trace circles around my clitoris; my breath gets caught in my throat. Oh Maker... The pleasure that begins fanning out from deep within my stomach is almost too much to bear.

Still, my alter ego folds an arm around her friend's shoulders and ruffles his hair. "Yeah, he's finally come to his senses." My voice sounds perfectly normal.

For a moment, Alistair is silent. "Well, good for you!" he eventually says approvingly. "Hand me the butter, will you?" That's directed at me.

I grab a hold of the small jar of butter and pass it to my fellow Warden. My orgasm announces itself forcefully, but the detached part of me just engages in small talk with the others while I quake and quiver, scream and shout while the tidal wave of bliss swallows me. My body shows none of this, however.

Jowan's caresses become slower and slower until he stops and his hand leaves me, aware of my climax. I let out a long, satisfied breath of air and am just one person again. That was such a strange experience. Am I crazy, or something? It wouldn't really surprise me if that were the case. After all, one who has long conversations with stuffed animals and ill-advised affairs with templars cannot be very sane.

"Look, maybe you should escort your friend back to his cell before anyone sees him. The arlessa will tear your head off for it if she finds out," Alistair suddenly says. Well, I have no doubt she would. Verbally at least. For a delicate little noblewoman she's a rather fierce creature.

"Wouldn't want that to happen," Jowan chuckles. He gets up and offers me his hand. "Let's go."

"But I've not finished eating." All the bread has magically disappeared from my plate though. "Did you eat my food?" I cast my friend an accusing glance.

He nods, giving me a look of both regret and mirth. I sigh. Can't let my guard down with him around. Meals at the tower were much the same, as I recall. My plate was never safe. And then there was that silly cat sometimes stealing my food.

"Fine then, let's go." Quickly I empty another cup of milk. I lay my hand in his and he helps me up. As we are just outside the room, I hear Alistair and Zevran loudly whispering about the relationship between Jowan and me. Alistair seems convinced we are merely very good friends, while Zevran insists there is more going on. Even Stubbs seems to be engaged in the conversation, though none of us speaks the language of dogs. I roll my eyes. Men are such busybodies.


	9. A Memento for a Memento

_My thanks to Shakespira for the title of the previous chapter. Bread with a side of orgasm, ha! Brilliant!_

* * *

On the way to the dungeon we didn't run into anyone of note, only servants whom I suspect are not at all aware of my friend's role in the arl's illness. They all greeted us as if we were normal houseguests, at any rate. Jowan's been awfully quiet on the way down, deep in thought, judging from the way he's chewing his lip. He snaps to when I open the door to his cell for him.

"Thank you for all you've done for me," he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Gratitude is written all over his face.

I cast him a smile. "You're welcome. And thank _you_ for secretly fingering me under the breakfast table." I giggle girlishly.

"Oh, that was fun." He grins proudly, his cheeks flushing a slight shade of pink. "I can't believe you were so stoic."

"Frankly, me neither." I stick my arms through the bars of his door and he folds his hands around mine. "I don't want you to die, Jowse." Suddenly I feel so very emotional.

"Don't be sad for me," he replies resolutely. "I need to face what I've done. You know this, don't you?"

"Still, if there is a way to save you, you can count on it I'll bloody well use it." I can be resolute too. Adamant, even. And let me tell you, I am adamant in this. If I can keep him alive, I will.

He releases my hands and cups my face to gently stroke my cheeks with his thumbs. "Don't worry yourself on my account." Suddenly his eyes light up. "I have something I'd like to give you."

"Oh?" I rub my hands together, accompanied with a maniacal chuckle. "I hope it's in your pants."

For a moment my friend just stares at me in surprise and then bursts out laughing. "No, no," he hiccups. "Here." Still laughing, he grasps my hand and slips a ring (he seems to have conjured it from the void) around my ring finger. I can only stare at it in wonder. It's beautiful: a bold golden band adorned with a lovingly cut gemstone, blue as the sky.

"I, uhm..." This is a bit awkward. "Why are you giving me this?"

He sighs sadly. "I was going to propose to Lily, but that's... never going to happen. I would like you to have it. Something to remember me by, that kind of thing." His sad expression quickly changes into a mischievous one. "I stole it from my mother before I was taken to the tower."

His tale was a sad one. I remember he spoke of it very bitterly when we were younger. As soon as he had started showing signs, his mother began referring to him as it and a demon she didn't want living under her roof any longer. And he was only a little boy of what, five years old? Very sad. I'm glad I don't have any such memories.

"Then, thank you. It's lovely. But you know I don't need any keepsake to remember you." My knees nearly buckle under memories of the naughty things we did together. "I-I mean, you've been my friend for as long as I can remember."

My expression must betray my true thoughts, because through the bars his arms snake around my waist and he says: "Our friendship's not what you're thinking of, is it?" His voice is low and husky, not the high-pitched notes I'm so used to. "Get in here and I'll give you something you can really remember me by."

Well now, what am I to say to that? Nothing, that's what. I yank the door open and almost _fly_ into the cell, into my beloved friend's waiting arms. He kisses me hungrily, tongue plunging into my mouth and eagerly entwining with my own. His hands seem to be all over me, but I just concentrate on unlacing his trousers and sticking my hand into them to play with his already hard cock. Oh, how I wish I had one of these I could use every day. I would be _sooo_ happy...

Jowan gets my rather unsubtle hint and hikes my robes up to my waist, pulls down my panties and promptly slips two fingers into me. Before long he pulls them out and interrupts the kiss to inspect them. "You're so wet," he whispers, clearly impressed. I bet I could impress him more. So I grab his wrist with my free hand and slowly lap up my juices from his fingers. Watch those eyes grow into the size of saucers.

"Please, Jowse, please," I pant into his ear. "Fuck me, now. Don't make me wait." I punctuate my every word with a stroke of my hand. Staring into his eyes, I see they're glazed over with desire. Mine must be much the same.

"Get on your knees," he orders me, his voice all rough and hoarse. My, my, how very promising. I obediently kneel before him and watch him reveal his erection, the tip shiny with... that stuff that comes out before ejaculation, I forget what it's called. He grabs his cock at the base and taps it against my lips. "You know what to do."

Oh, teasing me, are we? Two can play that game. First I delicately lick the tip, once. A little kiss follows. I open my mouth and close my lips around the first few inches of him, applying only minor pressure. With a frustrated grunt he grabs me by the back of the head and simply begins thrusting into my mouth. My evil plot to tease him just blew up in my face.

"There's a good girl," he moans, clawing and pulling my hair rather hard. It hurts a little, but Maker, is it arousing. It only makes me want him more. Finally he says: "Good, that will do." With a plopping noise he pulls himself out of my mouth and walks around me. Within seconds his chest is pressed against my back, hands kneading my breasts, teeth nibbling on my earlobe. I can only moan and whimper helplessly. When is he finally going to put that magnificent cock of his in me?

"Support yourself on your hands." The hands on my breasts move to my shoulders to push me down. When I feel the tip of his erection between my longing lips, I could just about jump for joy. "Is this what you want?" he asks, every syllable dripping with arousal.

I crane my neck to look back at him. "Yes." My voice is a barely audible, throaty whisper. Oh, to the Fade with this; if he doesn't put it in me soon, I'm going to go stark raving mad. "Please, Jowan, please. I cannot take this any longer. _Please_ fuck me," I beg. "Please, please, please..."

From the corner of my eye I catch him grinning wickedly. "Since you ask so nicely," he drawls. With one hard thrust he is fully buried within me, causing me to throw back my head in pleasure and scream. My screaming becomes even louder when he begins thrusting in me, slowly and deliberately. There's nobody here, why should I bother to keep quiet? I doubt I even could. Maker's breath, but he's hard, stretching me so far it almost hurts. He's made me ridiculously wet; I can clearly feel rivulets of my juices flowing down the insides of my thighs.

His thrusts are maddeningly slow, that splendid friction making me dizzy, clouding my mind. I beg and plead for him to go harder and faster, but he does not respond at all. His arm curving around my hip, his fingers lazily stroking my pulsating bump only add to this sweet torment. Beads of sweat that have formed on my forehead splatter onto the ground as the familiar tension builds in the pit of my stomach, turning my blood into boiling lava.

Only when I come, my muscles clenching around his hard-on, does my lover give in to my constant implorations and begins fucking me _really_ hard and _really_ fast. My pleads turn into long-drawn screams and monosyllables such as "ooh" and "yes", sometimes followed by his name. But I don't leave him unaffected either; babbled phrases tumble from his lips. Sometimes I catch a word I understand, but mostly he just moans and grunts.

And then he bends his upper body over mine to grab my breasts and pinch my nipples through the fabric of my robes, his thrusts becoming more shallow but staying just as vehement. From his heavy breathing in my ear I can tell he is enjoying me very much. Good. I crane my neck and manage to lock lips with him, our tongues barely touching. Suddenly his grip on me tightens and he finishes with one last incredibly hard and incredibly deep thrust.

I open my eyes to watch my best friend's face contort into a mask of intense pleasure, moaning into my mouth, throbbing wildly within me, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. A thing of beauty, that. Might just be my favourite thing to watch.

After a while his grip on me loosens and he gets off me to sit on the floor, his back propped up against the wall. He's panting like an exhausted hound. "Woman," he breathes, "if arl Eamon doesn't kill me, you just might." A blissful grin appears on his face. Apparently it doesn't seem like such a bad way to die.

Bah, I'm leaking. I step out of my panties and use them to clear the seed away. Now I have to put on clean ones again. It's a small price to pay for all the pleasure I received.

"Can I have those?" Jowan suddenly pipes up, pointing at the crumpled garment in my hand with sparkling eyes.

"Sure." I toss them in his direction and he snatches them out of the air. "Something to remember me by, aye?"

He briefly sniffs them before making himself decent and stuffing them down his pocket. "Come, give me a hug." He holds his arms out to me, smiling affectionately.

I can only return that smile and straddle his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. As he securely folds his arms around my waist, his head resting on my chest, I feel a friendly warmth emanating from him. See? We're still best friends. Who happen to enjoy having it off with one another, that's all. I swear this could just be the best set up _ever_.

"I'll miss you, Tori," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm going to be so lonely when you're off fetching Andraste's ashes."

"I'll miss you too." I sigh. "I don't even know if those ruddy ashes still exist."

Jowan looks up. "Well, if they do, you'll be the one to find them," he says confidently. "There is nothing this Grey Warden can't do!" He waves his arms about dramatically.

"Ha, well, I appreciate your confidence in me. Let's hope it is not misplaced." I stroke his hair and briefly hold him tighter before releasing him. "I should go. First we head to Denerim to find this Brother Genitivi, which will no doubt lead us to some Maker forsaken place in the far ends of Ferelden. So, take care."

He nods. "I'll try. Good luck." His hands cup my face and he presses his lips to mine for a soft, tender kiss. "For luck," he afterwards explains blushingly.

"Thank you. Maker knows I can use it." I stand and walk out of his cell. "Hopefully I'll see you soon."

My friend eyes me miserably from behind the bars. "Yes, until then. Bye."

After a last wave I walk out of the dungeon to pack my things, a slight breeze cooling my heated nether regions.

* * *

In the hallway I run into our minstrel, who is eating something I've never seen before. "Good morning, Leliana."

"Oh, good morning," she replies cheerfully. "I didn't know you were up already."

"What are you eating?" It appears to be some kind of pastry, golden brown and shaped like a crescent moon.

"Oh, this? This is a croissant. One of the things I miss most from Orlais." She holds the croissant out to me. "Care for a bite?"

It sure looks appetizing. "Yes please." I take a small bite. The outside is crispy, the inside fluffy and light. It tastes of rich, creamy butter. "Wow, that is _delicious_."

"Yes, isn't it? If I may say so, you look so much better. Did you finally manage to get some sleep?" she asks curiously. Yes, that and then some. But surely she doesn't want to know that.

"I sure did. Hey, would you mind doing my hair again? I just can't seem to get it right." I shoot her a pleading look and she utters her lovely melodious laugh.

"Of course, it will be my pleasure." A bright smile curves her lips. "Shall we go into your room?"

"Sure." I open the door for her. "Go on in."

Inside I find that the bed has been made with fresh sheets. These servants here really work quickly. I retrieve my comb and the red ribbon from the desk and hand them to Leliana. She gestures for me to sit on the chair before the desk. As she combs my hair and brushes it to the side, the young woman gasps.

"Astoreth, what is this rash on your neck?" Her fingers press lightly against my skin. And here are the comments, no doubt. "Have you been a naughty girl?" she asks mischievously.

"No, I think that whatever they use to launder clothes here causes this reaction," I lie light-heartedly.

"Allergies do not cause teeth marks," she sings. So obviously this was a crappy excuse, but thankfully she doesn't prod me any further. Before long her nimble fingers have knotted my hair into that intricate, beautiful braid with the pretty bow at the end. "There, all done."

"Dear Leliana, you are a true artist." I make an exaggerated curtsy from my chair, making the young woman giggle. "Thank you very much."

"It was no trouble at all. Is there anything else you might need?" Her elegant eyebrows are raised quizzically.

"No, thank you so much for making me all pretty and..." Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Alistair. "Come in."

The Warden opens the door and walks in. "Ladies, I think we should get going. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Leliana looks at Alistair and myself in turn and giggles girlishly. "I will leave you two alone." Before she walks out the door, she casts the both of us a naughty, knowing glance.

Alistair's expression is helplessly puzzled. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing." I smile sweetly at him. Rawr, isn't he a vision?

His eyes narrow as he smiles. "You look so much better. Did you have a good night's rest?"

"Oh, yes." My mouth stretches into that all too familiar, no doubt dumb-looking grin. "The best."

* * *

_And so ends the return to Redcliffe. Next up: a wild goose chase. Or is it? Dunn dunn DUNN. _


End file.
